What follows is a eulogy of sorts for Orin, a good friend of mine who left illy. This story is also available on my profile.

Farewell, Orin. You were a good friend and comrade. You will be missed. May luck and fortune follow you wherever life takes you.

The Lost Dwarf

One bright, sunny morning Belegar decided to call upon his good friend Orin. The young dwarf had been one of Belegar's first recruits in a long rebuilding project that had seen Dwarven Lords surge to prominence once again. Though the fates had taken Orin to other alliances, the noble dwarf had recently returned to his mountain kin. Belegar made the short trip to Erebor, Orin's capital and only a stone's throw away from KarakDrazh.

Belegar traveled with only a few armed retainers for no enemy would dare show his face in these lands and made the short trip without any trouble. To his surprise, no sentries greeted him at the gates, which were barred and shut fast. No sound issued. The city was silent and cold as a tomb.

With a growing sense of alarm, Belegar ordered his troops to break out ropes and to get over the walls to see what was amiss. In no time at all Belegar was inside. He rushed inside the mountain keep, calling out. His loyal soldiers did the same, shouting the names of friends they knew that lived in Erebor. Only ghostly echoes greeted them.

Belegar and his dwarves found supplies and weapons in great abundance. It was as if everyone in the city had vanished into thin air, leaving everything behind. The Thane searched high and low, even venturing into the torchlight burial hall, but only found ancestor statues, their eyes cold and stone faces impassive to his cries.

At last Belegar broke into Lord Orin's royal chamber, hoping for some clue as to his friend's whereabouts. The bed sheets were disheveled, indicating that someone had slept there the night before. A roll of parchment sat on an oaken desk that abutted one of the walls.

Belegar unrolled the scroll and his heart sank. Two solitary words adorned the parchment.

Farewell, Friend.

Thane Belegar collapsed to his knees as a fresh wave of despair washed over him. He punched the ground so hard that he dented his armour, but he scarcely felt the blow. His guards were stunned speechless and could only watch in silence. One by one they sank glumly to the floor at a total loss for words.

Just three days before Belegar had helped Orin capture a city. They had feasted long into the night making plans and had stormed the walls together the next day. He had thought everything was fine, Orin had seemed joyous to be back among the ranks of the Dwarven Lords, but alas it appeared that was not the case.

How long Belegar remained on the floor he did not know, but night fell before he stirred. Despite the balmy summer night, a chill wind swept through the vacant halls. He stood numbly to his feet, his entire mind in a fog. He and his guards sealed the gates behind them as they left, determined that no enemy should ravage those hallowed halls. The return journey to KarakDrazh passed in a blur.

Belegar thought long and hard, remembering both the good times and the bad. He remembered when he had first met Orin as a young dwarf. He remembered fondly the day that Orin had coined the name "Belgian Wafflehammer" for him and the many laughs and jokes they had shared. He thought back to Orin's first siege and the time he had told Orin that cow merchants made good money, causing Orin to immediately order the production of five thousand cows.

He remembered that Orin had started a sister alliance to Dwarven Lords, and he bitterly regretted that he had not done more to help. He regretted that Orin had felt the need to leave Dwarven Lords for other lands and wished he had done more to prevent that.

Belegar immediately proclaimed a month of mourning for all his cities and refused to eat any food for three days. He sent troops back to all of Orin's cities to guard them against anyone foolish enough to seek too despoil them.

Belegar does not know where his friend Orin has gone, but he misses him sorely. He hopes that one day the smiling, clever young dwarf will stroll into the Thane's hall, asking for Belgian Wafflehammer.

[07:11]<Belegar Ironhammer> *waves to orin

[07:11]<Belegar Ironhammer> you will be missed

[07:13]*Ghash-Uruk waves to Bel. I'll miss you more

[07:19]<Belegar Ironhammer> *hugs Orin

[07:19]<Belegar Ironhammer> first and last time I will ever hug someone in GC

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